A Potion Master's Observance
by RithmaticRitin
Summary: (Rated T cause of abuse mentions and my own paranoia) Dumbledore sends Severus to pick up Harry from the Dursleys. How will this alter the first book? Harry's abuse from the Dursleys is slightly harsher than what is originally put in the book. OOC-ness from Harry and Snape 'cause they're friendly and stuff. dunno much about the genre... ah well... I OWN NOTHING! nothing!
1. Fetching the Potter Boy

- The Potion Master's Observance -

**I OWN NOTHING OF THE HARRY POTTER WORLD!**

( Rating might be T+ cause of mentions of abuse. and my own paranoia)

Dumbledore sends Severus to pick Harry up from the Dursleys. How will this alter the first book? (Harry still does the whole business with the Sorcerer's Stone, just a slightly different angle.) Harry's abuse from the Dursleys is slightly harsher than what is originally put in the book. Before picking him up from the Dursleys, Severus does some snooping, inquisitive as to how 'pampered' his arch-rivals son has been the past 10 years. (Slight OOC-ness from Harry and Snape, they're actually friendly-ish to each other!) Severeus and Harry POV! Don't know how long this is gonna be. Might be until they get to Hogwarts. Might go 'till the end of the third book.

**Mkay, here they send Hogwarts letters at one's tenth birthday so that they have until whenever the 'original' owl reply was due. This way they have more time to prepare. But they only send a maximum of 200 letters before sending in a professor in order to avoid alerting the Muggle authorities. The story starts roughly around when Hogwarts has already sent Harry the 200 letter maximum, and have heard nothing (Dumbledore has the same expectations of Harry's knowledge of the Wizarding world as in the books)**

* * *

Severus simply stared, incredulously, at the silver-bearded man that was standing calmly in front of him. He knew that it had to be done, but he didn't understand why _he_ had to do it. So he gave the headmaster the only logical answer he could think of to such an insane question.

"No."

A slight pause.

"Now, now Severus. Surely you are perfectly capable of handling such a simple task?" Dumbledore replied evenly, almost as if he was shocked that he had refused the ridiculous offer.

"No." Severus hissed, even more coldly, if that was possible,"I see absolutely no reason why _I_ must do it. That oaf Hagrid or even Minerva would be more suitable for this assignment."

Dumbledore simply glanced at him, blue eyes twinkling, as if amused about something. "Yes, but Minerva is still quite busy with class preparations at this time, while I know that you, as always, have already completed all of yours." Severus almost cursed under his breath for being unable to use that as an excuse."And while Hagrid does indeed have the time, I have assigned him another task that is actually of equal importance, one that would best be done free from any possible leakage to those not already privy to it." Severus muttered under his breath about _'a ridiculous oaf''_, _'irresponsible blundering'_, and even something that sounded like an actual curse.

"Are you positive that _none_ of the other professors are capable with handling this?" He pushed, as if hoping that maybe one of them would magically have an open schedule.

"I'm afraid not Severus," Dumbledore said softly. "But even if they were, I would still wish for you to go and retrieve him," he then smiled gently down at Professor Snape, "After all, I can think of no one better than you to introduce Lily Potter's son into the wizarding world.

Severus simply continued to glare at the old man before him. Minutes passed before he suddenly heaved a large sigh. "Fine," he muttered as he swiftly left the Headmaster's Office, cloak swishing almost ominously behind him.

* * *

It was exactly 1 week after his 10th birthday that the letters from no one stopped completely. They hadn't stopped suddenly or all at once, no. It was almost gradual. A few less in the eggs, a few less owls in the afternoon, a few less down the chimney that night. Harry had fully expected Uncle Vernon to snap at some point, but the walrus look-alike had somehow been able to contain his strange rage towards the letters. Harry was quite saddened that they had stopped, for it seemed as if any communication to someone outside of Dursleys was closed off when they stopped. Although, he also was, in some twisted, messed up way, eternally happy that whoever was sending the letters had finally given up. Uncle Vernon had been in a terribly awful mood ever since they first started arriving.

He had also, of course, taken his horrible mood out on Harry.

Harry was used to Uncle Vernon, Dudley, and (very rarely) even Aunt Petunia hitting him, kicking him, throwing him up against the wall, throwing him into his cupboard, all of that. But it increased ten-fold from his uncle when the letters started to come, and even Dudley's overlarge, baggy clothing was having a hard time hiding the bruises that spread over almost every inch of his skin. He was slightly worried that the neighbors would notice them when he was tending the front lawn; Aunt Petunia would never let him hear the end of it if he was the source of rumors about their family.

And then the letters had finally stopped.

8 days after his 10th birthday, there were no letters, nothing _strange_, nothing... _abnormal_. His uncle had been cautiously ecstatic. The next day, still no letters, and Harry would have been completely unsurprised if Uncle Vernon started a full-blown party that day in celebration. He had even forgotten to give Harry his seemingly daily thrashing that day!

This thought only added to that sickly, twisted feeling of happiness in Harry's gut.

* * *

It was now a good few weeks after the whole letter incident. He preferred to keep it in the back of his mind, for whenever he thought about it, that sick, filthy feeling came back to him again.

Harry was currently locked up in his cupboard, nursing a new set of now purple bruises blossoming across his shoulder and back. His uncle had just thrown him in, moments before Mr. and Mrs, Mason entered their home. He supposed it was for being slow with finishing tidying up the whole house so it sparkled, and then cooking their lavish dinner. If he had been faster, Harry wouldn't have been thrown into his cupboard.

His stomach growled, _loudly_. Harry blanched, fearing that those outside had heard the ferocious sound as well. He slowly relaxed when Uncle Vernon didn't come busting in to give him a swift kick to the ribs and a rapidly hissed threat.

The dinner party schedule was one that he was quite familiar with. First he would be woken at the crack of dawn my Aunt Petunia and given only a thin slice of burnt toast for breakfast. Next, he would tediously scrub the house from top to bottom, inside and outside, often doing rooms twice; even ones the guest might not ever even know existed. Then he would have ended up not getting lunch, and then made to start cooking up a storm for dinner, during which he was never allowed a morsel. Lastly, during the dinner, he was always to stay in his cupboard, making no noise and pretending he wasn't there.

He was always lucky to get more than that piece of burnt toast on days with a dinner party.

* * *

Severus Snape had never understood muggles. Their lives were incredibly boring and he couldn't be bothered to figure out how their devices worked without magic. But these muggles, oho.

They were a whole new level of boring.

A few good weeks after Hogwarts had sent their last letter, Severus finally decided that he couldn't put it off any longer and went to 'pick up Harry'. So he reluctantly apparated near to this 'Number 4 Privet Drive', which had to be the least interesting place on the face of the planet.

Striding up the street, he noticed that the house that Harry was supposedly living in appeared to have guests.

That wasn't good.

Severus frowned. If he were to properly invite Harry to Hogwarts, as much as he would rather not, he needed to so in the most indiscreet fashion.

Which meant not while these 'Dursley's' had more boring muggles over for some type of drab dinner party.

Severus heaved a sigh. He had taken the time to properly clean up the dungeon just to find he had interrupted his work just to go right back to it. He hated 3 things, work interruptions, wasted time, and James Potter.

Professor Snape was struck with the strange urge to scout out Number 4 anyway, maybe to find out something that would prevent him from this unfortunate timing again? He wasn't sure why he wanted to do so, but he decided that since he had indeed left the dungeons in pristine condition, and already stopped all work on his potions and class plans, he should at least do something slightly productive.

So he headed towards Number 4 with the intentions of scouting out the place. Invisible, of course.

* * *

Slipping into the plain-looking house after the guest muggles, Severus looked around. It was an average muggle dwelling, probably identical to the others lining the street outside. He could see the lounge over to his left, and a kitchen down the hall, past that small cupboard under the stairs. The entire house seemed immaculate, and he vaguely wondered just how long it had taken to get it so, so... _clean._

A rather large little boy welcomed the two guests. 'Mr. and Mrs. Mason', were apparently their names. Severus was greatly relieved when he saw that this was, indeed, NOT Harry, largely due to the lack of a scar, the unruly mop of black hair, and piercing green eyes. He was quite unsure why he felt such relief, but he _was_ quite sure in the disgust he felt coiled up inside of him while looking at that fat little thing. The large fat man called him 'Dudley'.

He then laid eyes on the thin, horse-faced woman and was startled to find that this was Petunia, Lily's sister. She had been awfully jealous of Lily when she had gone off to Hogwarts. Severus was slightly interested to see how she treated her nephew. If this 'Dudley' was anything to go by, he was probably spoiled rotten to the core, never having to work for anything in his life, he thought with a sneer especially reserved for James Potter.

The evening progressed tediously and slowly. Severus also learned that the large fat man with the mustache was known as 'Vernon', and he was apparently Petunia's husband, with Dudley as their son. What he found most curious however, was that Harry was nowhere to be seen. Or heard, for that matter. While Petunia seemed dead-set on focusing all on her 'sweet little duddy-kins', Harry was never even brought up in the conversation.

Severus suddenly looked up at the mantle. Up there was still-life muggle pictures of Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley, all doing various activities, but not a single one of Harry. It was as if the boy didn't exist in this house at all. In fact, if Severus didn't specifically remember Dumbledore telling him that Harry had been sent to his only living relatives, meaning Petunia and her family, Severus would have been positive he had walked into the wrong house.

Now slightly unnerved by the virtual eradication of Harry Potter's existence, however much he despised the boy, he now was curious as to where the now 10 year old boy could be.

Leaving the pathetic muggles to their idle chatter, Severus silently went up the stairs towards the most obvious destination: the kids' bedrooms.

* * *

**Hooray for a first fanfic!  
Woohooo! \^o^/  
Ok, now you can tell me what a terrible plotline this is, go ahead, not stopping ya. But no complaining about the OOC-ish Snape, DEAL WITH IT! I have trouble writing from the POV of a bonefide slimy git. btw, anyone who is a true Harry Potter fan knows that Severus is actually a good guy and deserves way more credit!**

**So umm... review?**


	2. Place of Residence

**As always, own nothing, blahblahblah...  
Sorry for the short chapter, its just... it fits better in the story like this.  
(I should probably wait more than a day to post stuff, but I just... I haz so many ideaz! ;-o-; **

* * *

Place of Residence

He reached the upstairs quarters, letting the downstairs babble be drowned out by his own thoughts and breathing. Severus quickly noted that it was, once again, plain and drab looking. There was a simple bathroom and what looked to be two bedrooms. Glancing into the bathroom, he once again saw an unsettlingly clean and spotless area. He proceeded to the bedroom at the end of hallway, which also appeared to be the larger of the two.

Opening the door, he was greeted by an over excess of toys, gaming consoles, electronics, etc. A few seemed to be only a few months old, some were broken or otherwise now unusable in some fashion. It was quite obvious that the room had been picked up in a hurry, Severus noted with a smirk. That meant that the house wasn't always spotless _everywhere_. Just most of the place. Despite the made bed, one could still see a rather large indent in the mattress, confirming the room to be Dudley's.

Severus left the room with a sneer of disgust. That Dudley brat was even more spoiled than James had been! And he had thought that no one could be worse. Well, these disgusting people had proved him wrong, sadly. He turned to the other bedroom on that floor, assuming it to be Harry's. Severus reasoned that, since he wasn't downstairs, he would certainly be in his room, so he opened the door carefully, making sure he was visible. He instantly knew something was wrong when no one was saying anything about an intruder. Startled at the lack of reaction, Severus quickly swung the door open, still being careful to be completely silent.

To say that Severus was shocked would be an understatement. A more proper statement would be completely flabbergasted. This room, if it was possible, held more items and toys than the previous room. But there was something terribly, _terribly_ off. Every single toy in here was broken or dysfunctional in some way. The only untouched items in here seemed to be the scarce books collecting heavy amounts of dust on the far shelf.

Then there was the bed. It was slightly tidy, as if made, and then left that way for an indefinite period of time. Patting it with his hand, he noted the dust rising out of it. To anyone with the barest amount of deduction skills, it was glaringly obvious that this room was not used as sleeping quarters, but more of storage, and had been used that way for at least a decade.

His mind reeling, Severus left the spare room, distantly remembering to make sure he was invisible once more.

* * *

Severus leaned against the railing of the staircase, once again on the ground floor. He barely registered that the muggles were still droning on about something even more boring than earlier, if that was possible. His mind was still trying to answer the prominent question: where was Harry Potter?

Going through the entire house layout in his mind, he couldn't think of a single room he hadn't checked. There was simply nowhere for Harry to be. Despite utterly despising the boy, due to his despicable father, Severus was starting to get worried. What had happened to him? Had he run away? Was he dead?

He shook his head, trying to clear it. He reached within his robe and withdrew a thick envelope, written on with green ink; Harry's Hogwarts invitation.

Yes, the vile piece of paper still said Number 4, Privet Drive, which meant that the boy _had_ to be here, somewhere. He was just about to resign himself to asking Petunia and her husband after the dreadful dinner was over when he noticed something.

Something of such importance, one wonders how he missed it.

The last part of the address on the Hogwarts invitation letter.

Harry Potter's room of residence.

_'The Cupboard Under The Stairs'_

* * *

**Ooooooooh, cliffy, imma evil!  
Pls don't kill me, whether it be for the cliffy, sucky story, horrendous plotline, 'cause you just like to kill people or any and all of the above!**

**(btw, I honestly have NO IDEA where I'm going with this, just gonna go with the flow.) Hope it isn't too bad so far! Review!~ I guess...**


	3. Just Another Day at the Dursley's

**Do I really have to say I don't own it after every chapter?  
It's already in the summary people, what more do ya want?  
**

***Says I don't own anything related to Harry Potter anyway 'cause I'm freakishly paranoid***

**Review:**

**dianaanne: asfjkagsfka I can't believe I did that! D: I already fixed it, as soon as I say your review I was like 'ermagurd, how did I do that!'... I think I play too many shooting games, darn trigger finger...**

* * *

Just Another Day at the Dursley's

Severus simply stared, almost slack-jawed for nearly a full minute. He then snapped himself out of his daze and then simply continued staring at the tiny door not 3 feet away from him. He had been in there the whole time?

Resisting the urge to fling the cupboard's door open to see for himself, Severus started on the next problem, giving Harry his letter while alerting as few muggles as necessary, and making sure he got it _and_ understood it. He looked up at the time and was startled to see that it was almost 10:30 at night. Silently cursing, Severus just as silently apparated back to Hogwarts.

As much as he hated to admit it, Severus had no idea as to when Harry would be alone with only his family at their house. Periodically checking on him would have to suffice. He briefly wondered what possessed the Dursleys to put a child in such a small space, but quickly pushed the distracting thought to the back of the mind. Unfortunately, it didn't stay there for long and for the next week he simply could not shake the feeling that something was horribly amiss.

* * *

Harry once again woke to his aunt's shrill voice slicing through the silently dark bliss that was unconsciousness. Dragging himself from his 'bed' he was dimly aware of a fresh pain in his shoulder and back, but it soon faded into the background with the rest of his injuries.

He sluggishly trudged into the kitchen and started making breakfast, just like any other normal day. Almost burning the bacon a few times, Harry was acutely aware of his uncle's beady little eyes tracking his every movement, like how a hawk would watch it's prey.

So it was one of those days.

He would have to watch himself, even more so than usual. One wrong move, a single hair out of line, and Harry would be instantly flayed within an inch of his life. He could tell by the way Uncle Vernon was clenching and unclenching his fists... he was waiting for Harry to mess up, just so he could hit something.

And this is how Harry knew that the dinner party last night had not gone exactly the way his aunt and uncle had planned it to.

He also knew that his uncle would find some way to pin it all on him.

Harry watched as he watched his cousin plop his fat arse into one of the chairs around the table, and judging by his restless shifting, his cousin was also in the mood to punch something.

He also knew that his cousin could also tell when Uncle Vernon was unhappy, it simply added up differently in his cousin's mind. To Dudley, if his father was unhappy, then he wouldn't get any gifts that day, less food, and might even get yelled at or bopped on the head once or twice. These thoughts made Dudley unhappy as well, and he and his father would silently agree on not hitting each other.

They would also somehow agree that they still wanted to punch something warm and moving, something that screamed in pain, something else alive...

In other words, Harry.

Harry silently sighed to himself, careful not to make any noise or have it affect his cousin or uncle in any way. He would be on his toes 'till the end of the week, Harry thought numbly as his aunt started ushering him outside without even some burnt toast to re-trim the hedges he had trimmed to perfection just yesterday.

Harry shivered in his thin, baggy shirt once he was standing in the chill wind, hearing the door slam behind him right after his aunt's voice,

"And you'll get no food from me until every single blade of grass is in it's proper place!"

Yes, today was simply another day at the Dursley's.

* * *

**Hooray!  
I've probably done too much on this story all at once...  
But I seriously doubt anyone's complaining about it so Imma go ahead and say that NOBODY CARES 'BOUT THAT.**

**Do I even have to ask for reviews? Something tells me that if you feel like reviewing you're gonna do it, and if you don't, then you're not gonna. At least... I sure hope you know how to type and click a few buttons...**


	4. A Discomforting Debacle Part I

**Review:**

**emcmorris831: Thanks! I'm interested to see where this is gonna go too! Mainly cause I have almost NO IDEA how it's gonna end up... ah well...**

**~Insert disclaimer stuff here!~**

**This was originally one whole chapter, but while writing it I realized it was ridiculously long (compared to my 1st chapter and stuff) and I split it into 2 parts. I was actually still writing what is now the second part, so I just went over this and... I should probably stop talking now...**

**Here ya go!**

* * *

A Discomforting Debacle Part I

Now nearing November, Harry shuffled back inside Number 4. Today had been even more rigorous than normal, what with Dudley trying to sabotage everything he did. He almost broke Aunt Petunia's prized cake platter! Harry shudders to think of the punishment he would receive if he broke _that_. Or anything, really.

Stifling an annoying cough he had acquired over the day, Harry attempted to sit closer to the fire without looking like he was trying to. If Dudley saw him scooting closer, he would deliberately come over and sit in front of Harry, blocking him from the fire's comforting warmth with his large body.

"Boy!" Uncle Vernon shouts suddenly from his place on the couch.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon?" Harry quietly replies, seemingly unfazed

"The fire's gone low. Get more wood from the back! And make it snappy!"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon."

Harry heaved a silent sigh. He had only just thawed himself out after Aunt Petunia had kept him out there trimming the trees. Deciding to do it as quickly as possible, Harry trotted over to the back door and darted outside into the howling wind, making sure to close the door. If he didn't, Aunt Petunia would have a cow over her still pristine kitchen getting dirt and leaves in it.

And then force Harry to clean it for 3 hours.

Reaching the wood pile, Harry piled up as much wood as he could in his stick-thin arms, wobbling slightly from the weight. He darted back over to the door and was able to stretch out his hand and miraculously open it.

Harry carefully placed the wood down own the fireplace's hearth, going out of his way to prevent any specks of dirt falling from the logs onto the pristine carpet. Assuming that his uncle also wanted him to restock the fire itself, Harry began placing one or two logs onto the already roaring fire. He went as slowly as he thought was safe, relishing in the fire's blazing warmth, and dimly noticed that his hands were shaking.

'_Simply from the cold_,' he thought.

Aunt Petunia came into the living room from the master bedroom and started shrieking something about Harry getting dirt all over the mat next to the back door. Harry frowned to himself. He had thought that those mats were there to _get_ dirty to prevent dirt from getting on other places.

Harry spent the rest of the night hand washing that mat clean.

* * *

The next morning, Harry was feeling quite strange. It was as if gravity was pulling down harder on him and him only. His head was pounding and his hands were sweating far more than he thought they should be.

He ignored it all. If he complained then Uncle Vernon would berate him for being a whiny little freak, give him a few good kicks to the gut, then send him off to do more chores for Aunt Petunia. Harry had learned this from experience.

Lots of it.

So Harry went on through the day, trying to ignore the progressively worsening feeling that had started in his stomach and head and had now progressed throughout his body. He finally got the chance to rest and actually _sit down_ for a few minutes in the kitchen. Only now he felt as though he would never be able to pick himself back up.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw his uncle come lumbering into the room. He had just gotten back from work and was, once again, apparently quite irate over something.

What that something was, Harry had never had any desire to find out.

Uncle Vernon continued stomping about the room ranting under his breath about whatever had gotten under his skin this time. He soon stopped pacing and placed himself (quite unceremoniously) into one of the kitchen chairs.

He then started shouting something at Harry.

To Harry, it was quite strange. For some reason he couldn't quite make out what his uncle was saying. He knew that he was shouting, so it was very unusual that he couldn't make out whatever he was being threatened this time. The only reason he knew that he was being threatened and not ordered was because his uncle was increasingly tense over something.

This was only barely noticed through slightly blurry vision, which was also confusing, for Harry knew that he had his glasses on.

Harry now realized that he was so completely drained and exhausted that he couldn't even bother to look or act scared of his uncle, which he was. He saw his now furiously raging uncle get up out of his chair and come over to Harry.

And soon proceeded to punch Harry in the gut.

For some reason, Harry could barely feel what he knew were incredibly painful blows. What he could feel, however, was the vile taste and burning sensation coming up his throat.

His uncle had stopped punching him and was now simply holding him by the scruff of his over-sized shirt and shouting in his face. Harry felt a rush of saliva enter his mouth and desperately tried in vain to stop the muscle contortions in his abdomen.

He then up chucked every morsel of nutritional substance contained in his fragile body onto the floor, just missing his uncle who had barely drawn back in time.

Giving a very painful, drawn-out dry heave, the small boy then blacked out from pure exhaustion.

* * *

Severus was quite happy when he finished grading the few written homework pages he had passed out. What he was not happy over was the god-awful work that had been turned in.

He also didn't have any more classes that Friday, with it being around 5:00 in the afternoon. He looked over his office desk and noticed a thick packet of yellowed parchment lying under a mound of scrolls.

Ah yes, fetching Potter, how could he have forgotten? (- Sarcasm!)

He still couldn't see why no one else could have that unpleasant job. Sighing, Severus severely hoped that he could give Harry his letter tonight and be done with it.

With that thought, he once again turned himself invisible, grabbed the packet, and apparated to the boring street known as Privet Drive.

* * *

Once again striding up the street of the most boring place to have ever existed, Severus saw that he was in luck. The man that he remembered being known as 'Vernon' was just pulling into the driveway, assumably just returning from work.

Severus noted, as he was slipping inside behind the overly large man, that 'Vernon' was incredibly angered over something. With such boring lives, the only thing _he_ would be angry over was the whole unchanging-ness of it all.

Pausing in the front hall, Severus landed his gaze on that damned cupboard door. He didn't want to simply charge in, no. He had far more tact than that. He also thought it highly improbable that Harry was even in there at the time, seeing as he wouldn't even had had dinner yet.

Vernon was loudly grumbling to himself about something related to 'drills', whatever those might be. Severus resigned himself to following after the man into the kitchen. He quickly halted when he noticed who else was in there.

* * *

**Wow. A failed cliffy.  
Ah well, wasn't going for one anyway.  
And if this DOES seem like an actual cliffy that isn't completely obvious and everything...  
then I feel quite sorry for all of your teachers.**

**You know what? I'm not gonna ask for reviews. I'm gonna let you guys figure out whether or not you wanna, and leave it at that (though the review WOULD be appreciated)**


	5. A Discomforting Debacle Part II

**Reviews!**

**demonpoxxx: Oooo, a dare. But um, I just kind of stop the chapters when I feel like they should stop. Besides, shorter chapters mean sooner updates and less waiting :D**

**mayoprincess: Thanks for the encouragement!**

**Liz Merryfeather: I'm gonna do my best to keep it up! *determined face***

**Professor Radar: Um... 1. Snape doesn't want to do this, 2. He procrastinates on things he doesn't want to do? and 3. Dumbledore works in strange (and quite unconventional) ways. Besides, Snape ain't seen nothin' yet.**

* * *

A Discomforting Debacle Part II

There was the despicable Potter boy! The exact, spitting image of his father, Severus noted with a wry smile. The boy was sitting back in what appeared to be an incredibly uncomfortable wooden chair, hands lying next to his lap. He took in the image of the 10 year-old boy in front of him. Harry was obviously stick-thin underneath the overly large, baggy and threadbare shirt and pants that couldn't possibly have been bought for him. He had large, circular glasses that seemed to have been taped back together innumerable times on the nose piece. Harry also had his unruly father's equally unruly mop of black hair, but had gained Lily's bright green eyes.

Severus saw, with a start, that the boy looked absolutely exhausted. He also seemed to have a heavy red tint on his cheeks and forehead; his eyes, that looked like they were normally bright, were almost a cloudy green and seemed slightly unfocused. Just great.

The boy was obviously sick and probably had a fever.

He sighed. This just wouldn't do. Despite his incredibly logical, lengthy protests, Dumbledore had added that, after giving Harry his Hogwarts invitation and filling him in on any information on the wizarding world that he might be lacking in, he was to take Harry _shopping_ in Diagon Alley for his school supplies. To prevent drawing out the torture he was sure to be put through when with the Potter boy, Severus had decided that he would take the boy to get supplies just the day after delivering the packet of parchment.

Which meant that he couldn't give it to him when he was _sick_, and, quite possibly, soon to be delirious.

Severus was jolted out of his down-trod thoughts when Vernon suddenly started shouting without warning, glaring furiously at the boy across from him. He, for one, was quite confused as to why the man was shouting at Harry. Then he thought that something must have happened during the day that had somehow resulted from the boy, no doubt. He did seem to be more of his father's son.

He wasn't interested in what was actually being said; it had nothing to do with him and was none of his business. But what happened next was quite the shock for him.

Vernon 'jumped' out of his seat and stomped threateningly over to the boy.

"Listen to me when I'm talking to you, you abnormal freak!"

'Freak'?

Now listening, quite attentively, Severus noticed that most of the things being said by the large raging man were increasingly painful sounding threats of bodily harm, all directed at the completely spent little boy in front of them. The boy in question twitched a little in the chair, as if his body wanted to shrink away but was simply too tired to do so, and gazed up at Vernon with unfocused eyes, as if puzzled.

Then the large man started punching the the small, thin boy in the chest and gut, no doubt leaving massive bruises, and quite possibly almost breaking a few ribs.

If this didn't shock Severus, nothing would.

The scene in front of him continued, not allowing his mind to properly process it, not yet.

Vernon had stopped punching the boy and was now holding him by the scruff, shouting curses and threats into his face. The boy had his face screwed up slightly, but not from what the man was saying.

Not moments later, Vernon drew Harry away from him, just as the boy started to puke up a disturbingly small amount of half-digested slop. Harry continued on to dry-heaving frighteningly quickly, even after being dropped roughly onto the floor by his Vernon.

The young boy then quickly lapsed into unconsciousness.

* * *

Vernon growled under his breath, then started shouting again.

"Petunia!"

"Yes, dear?"came the reply from in the lounge, sounding completely unfazed by the earlier shouting.

"The bratty little freak's gone and gotten sick on us!"

"What makes you say that?" Petunia said as she walked into the kitchen, almost hitting a still invisible Severus. Once she saw the mess of bile on the floor next to the unconscious Harry she gave a hair-raising shriek,

"My beautiful kitchen!"

Her _kitchen_, she was worried about the _kitchen_? The boy in front of her was in obvious need of medication and care, no matter the acts of his despicable father. Severus glared incredulously at the two adults as the scene continued to play out,

"That freak is lucky he passed out, otherwise he would be cleaning up this horrid mess until my kitchen was beautiful again!"Petunia continued to shriek, albeit at a slightly lower tone. Now it only sounded like nails on a chalkboard.

"Humph!" huffed Vernon. "And I was ready to give the brat a good beating too! He's had it comin' all week! I've been going easy on the boy!"

Vernon roughly grabbed Harry by his shirt scruff once again and dragged/carried him over to the cupboard under the stairs and virtually tossed the poor boy in. Petunia then came down the hall holding a pill bottle, but was stopped by Vernon.

"What are doing with that, Petunia dear?" Vernon asked gruffly.

"I was going to give the boy some medicine for that horrendous sickness."

'_At least they have the humanity to treat the boy, however so slightly_', Severus thought to himself, grimacing at the acts of the large man standing in front of him.

"What?" Vernon all but shouted incredulously. "We shouldn't waste such expensive things on a freak like him. Let the whiny brat fight it off."

Severus was about to intervene, simply for the mistreatment of a child, but Dudley did so first.

"But Daaaad, he's gonna get _me_ sick too!"Dudley sniffed. "I dun' wanna get sick!"

"Yes Vernon, if we don't eradicate that filthy virus the boy will infect us all! Oh, what would the neighbors say if we got some strange, freakish disease! We might not be able to leave the house for weeks!" Petunia cried, almost going into incredibly real tears.

Vernon's beet red face started gaining a slight purple color to it as he shouted, "Fine! Just give it to the brat, and make sure he stays in his cupboard, lest he pass the bloody virus on!" He then stomped away into the lounge, allowing Petunia to, very cautiously, distribute some medicine to the the unconscious Potter boy.

And thus is how Severus Snape ended up, however so slightly, grateful to someone being a self-absorbed, condescending, egotistical, snobbish prick.

* * *

**GAH! Sorry it took so long to get you such a small snippet. My computer decided to disconnect itself from the internet the entire day and** **my inspiration went away and only just got back. I only put out this small bit to satiate ye beasts.**

**Btw, updates might be few and far between soon, my bro's coming back from college for a bit, school (and tests) are gonna start again soon so... ya. I'm gonna try to get in a bunch of chapters before Monday but NO PROMISES. NONE!**

**Review so you can complain about my terrible character portrayal! \^o^/**


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